Fashion-Free Zone

I am the epitome of the death of fashion. I realized recently while outlet shopping that I have not a single strand of fashion DNA. I watched the other ladies in the store searching through racks of clothing for that perfect item, that specific pair of knee-high boots, correctly fitted blouses and hip-hugger jeans. I stood there in awe of their appearance; designer jeans, this year's footwear fashion and perfectly kept highlighted hair and nails. When I passed by a mirror I was horrified at my reflection. My minds started to play the song, "One of these things is not like the others...". Yep, there I was looking just like.........a daycare provider.

The entire reason I was in that outlet store was to find and purchase a pair of jeans. I had recently wore out the butt of my favourite pair. Yes, one day, while getting off the playroom floor I felt the thread bare fabric give a sigh of exhaustion and expose my panties to the daycare kids who thought it all very hilarious. I think I might have actually shed a tear. Those were my favourite pants. Just the perfect fit. Not to tight, not to lose. Comfortable enough to spend all day romping around the house wearing. Ugh.

My husband asked me later that night why my jeans were in the garbage. When I explained to him why he couldn't understand how anyone could possibly wear out the backside of their pants. It was then that I sighed and decided to save my breath than to explain.

I don't know about you but I spend a lot of time on my butt. I sit on the playroom floor building Lego towers, reading stories and playing Barbie. And when movement across the floor is required I shuffle by fat ass along the surface to engage the next child. Yes, I skid. And skidding is not conducive to the prolonged wear of denim. Got buttons on your jean pockets? Not me...I pop those suckers off on the floor within a week of purchase. Yes, I am a walking fashion nightmare.

My other most worn wardrobe item is T-shirts. I have a lot of T-shirts. Hey, snot stains silk and cotton blouses make me look like a wrinkled potato bag before morning snack time so T-shirts it is. And every single one of them has a small hole at sink level within a month of their maiden daycare voyage. All day I walk around with a round,wet area right about the height of my navel from the crazy number of times I wash my hands, prepare a snack or clean something up - all requiring water.

As for footwear? I can not pretend to be any more fashionable when it comes to my feet than the rest of my body. My winter boots keep me warm, not beautiful. I'm sure anyone who comes across my winter foot prints assumes Yeti to be in the area. Yep, they are huge and fuzzy inside but I can chase down Michelin-Men toddlers in a flash and my toes are never cold. Who needs tiny, slender, heeled, leather boots that scrunch up your toes anyway?

My favourite socks are fuzzy and pink. The daycare kids think they're a hoot. No doubt half of the well-kept and made up moms who drop of their kids in the morning shake their heads and wonder about me a little. Or maybe they're just irritated by those scrunched up toes stuffed in their fashionable boots.

So, as I stood there in the outlet store check out line I was happy with my purchases. Sure, they were all T-shirts and jeans but they were new and lacked holes and actually had fabric on the ass. And to the trendy women standing behind me with their cutsie blouses and linen pants - yep, those probably were red daisies on my underwear you could faintly make out under my worn jeans. Hey, I'm a daycare provider and thankfully I care more about your kids than my clothes. And I'm okay with that.




For concerns, advice or suggestions I welcome your email at judytrickett@yahoo.ca